Just Light One up for Me
by SwiftyWolf
Summary: In a zombie apocalypse AU, Stan and Craig have some bonding time. / Minor Straig hinted! This was fast, so it's probably not very good! " Rated T for some swearing and hinted slash.


Out of all people, I didn't think I'd be stuck here with Him. In a boarded up coffee shop, surrounded by these…These _things_ that we've come to call Walkers, the things that have eaten, killed, and turned our friends into more Walkers.

My faded, brown eyes drift over to Craig's tired looking form. He's slumped against the wall, his legs tucked into his body and one arm curled around them while the other lights a cigarette in his mouth. A grunt escapes my own mouth, and he looks towards me wryly. "What?"

"We're stuck in a zombie apocalypse and you're smoking fucking cigarettes? Nice." My own form is simply sitting cross-legged on the floor as I stare at my black haired companion.

"I need to get the stress out somehow." He simply shrugged and spoke in that monotonous voice of his, and I wanted to crawl over there and punch him.

But I know I can't do that, because I love him. I love him more than anything in the world. He's stuck by me through this whole thing, even when we hadn't been the best of friends through the time we knew each other. Whether it is just because he didn't want to be alone or otherwise, it still means the world to me.

"Well if you're going to smoke, at least toss one over here." A smirk lifts at the corner of Craig's mouth before he opens his only pack of cigarettes and tosses me one. I catch it with ease.

"It's the last one – Feel lucky." I examined the cancer-stick that's being held in between my fingers and pinch it lightly before shrugging, feeling content that it's not filled with poison or something of the sort. Whether we're friends or not, Craig has had it out for me since the fourth grade.

"The lighter too?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Here you go, Stan." He slid it across the floor. The object running along the wooden floor made a lengthy noise, and we both cringed. I leered at him and put my finger to my lips before letting out a 'shhh' sound. The Walkers react to sound the most.

Oh, right. I'm Stan Marsh, that jock that still hangs out with the weird not-so-popular kids. That kid that obsesses over his black hair and has been with the same girl ever since we were eight. Nobody ever paid much attention, though, so whatever.

I cringe as I light up my cigarette, but not because of the flame. It's because of the thought of my friends, no, _our_ friends. Craig and I shared the same affiliation with the same people. We had watched with our very own eyes as the people we grew up with are torn apart and eaten alive or are changed into those man-eating beasts. We've had to _kill_ the people we love. I watched as my best friend's adoptive brother got torn apart, and as Craig's best friend got his intestines pulled out of his stomach. I had to watch Bebe tear her best friend and my girlfriend, Wendy, apart, and as she bites Kyle while Kyle smashes her head open. We had to kill Kyle shortly afterwards. I don't want to go any further.

I didn't even notice the tears rolling down my cheeks until the cigarette falls out of my mouth as I successfully choke on my own sobs. I quickly smash the damned cancer stick with the palm of my hand, resulting in a minor burn, but I pay no attention to it.

"…Are you okay?" I ignored Craig and continued to let the tears roll down my cheeks. How can he even ask that? After all that we've been through, he asks that question, of all questions.

I realize my eyes had been closed, and the only reason I noticed is because I feel something rub down both of my cheeks. Slowly, I open my blue orbs and find myself staring into the face of Craig. He has his hands cupped around my face and is gently wiping my tears away with his thumbs. His apathetic grey eyes blink twice before he leans back, straddling my legs in a comforting way.

"Don't cry. Please." He looked down. His blue chullo hat had been lone gone, having fallen off while running at one point, and his black hair sweeps down into his face.

"Why not? Why is there not a reason to cry?" I tried blinking the tears away, but they just kept cascading down my face.

"Please," I stared at him blankly, and he finally looked up at my face again, holding my hands within his own. "You want to know why? Because you're all I have anymore. You're the only thing keeping me from giving up. You're helping me keep together and stopping me from breaking down and falling apart. You're my last ray of hope, and you know I'm yours. We have to stick together and keep ourselves together.

"Seeing you cry is like ripping my heart out. We're alone together now, and if we lose the other, whether it is physically or otherwise, it'll kill the opposite. So please, _please_, I beg of you, just don't cry. For me." The whole speech only brings more tears to my eyes, and I shake my head and nod it at the same time before suddenly latching to him in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry Craig…I'm so sorry…" I just continue to cry into his shoulder, shaking my head and repeating the words in muffled sobs. Eventually, I feel my shoulder and a small portion of my back growing damp too, and I realize, he's crying.

This is where I've crossed the line. Craig Motherfucking Tucker doesn't cry. No matter what.

"Craig." I pull away from the embrace, and his cheeks are damp and his eyes are red, and I watch as he rubs his right eye in an adorable fashion. This needs to stop. "Craig. Look at us. Stop, we just need to…Stop." He blinks twice. "Let's just…Pretend this isn't happening, okay? We can't cry. Not now. We've come so far…I just…Please?" I had gone from the one crying to the one giving the motivational speech.

"Cry?" He sniffled and looked down, rubbing his eyes. "You're the one crying, fuckass." With that, he turned around and crawled back to his spot by the wall.

"…Right. Of course." I scoff, rolling my eyes and stifling a chuckle at his denial. What an asshole.


End file.
